Decisions
by Steff
Summary: A trip home to Wales does not go to plan


**Summary** : A visit home to Wales does not do to plan

 **Disclaimer** : Call The Midwife belongs to the BBC and others - I am simply borrowing their beautiful characters.

 **Author's note:** I've had this one on the back burner for a little while but when I started writing it, it morphed itself into something very different. This was pretty much as a result of a conversation I'd had with giginutshell - so thank you for the inadvertent prompt. This is for you.

As always - thank you to Sittingonthis for the sense check and invaluable advice. I suspect this will be about 4 parts long, but with me - anything can happen! Enjoy...

* * *

Delia Busby shut the front door to Nonnatus House as quietly as possible and trod carefully along the hall. It had been a long, exhausting trip back from Wales and she was not in the mood to exchange pleasantries with anyone. She made it to the first bannister before she heard her name being called.

"Delia, you're back early. Patsy told us all you weren't due back until tomorrow." Barbara sounded surprised but pleased to see the Welsh woman return.

Delia carried on up the stairs but slowed down considerably. "The ticket was a lot cheaper if I returned today," she explained. "But I had to change buses a few times so I've been travelling all day. I could do with a lie down."

Barbara frowned. Something was off. Delia appeared cheerful enough but something was not quite right. Perhaps Delia just needed a nap. "Alright. I'll let you know when dinner's ready."

She saw Delia nod but the petite nurse didn't look her way as she continued up the stairs. Barbara stared after her for a few more moments, trying to pinpoint what was different when she realised that Delia had been wearing her hair down. Barbara couldn't remember ever seeing Delia without her hair tied back neatly. If Barbara was honest, she was quite envious that the other brunette could grow her hair so long. Barbara had tried several times but had never managed to get hers to grow past her shoulders. Shrugging to herself, Barbara went back to the clinical room where she had been autoclaving her kit.

Delia leaned back against the door of her room and blinked back tears. Soon enough, it was going to be obvious that something was wrong. She wouldn't be able to avoid the others forever. Patsy would come up as soon as she heard Delia was home. The small nurse sighed shakily before grabbing her suitcase and positioning it in the middle of the room, kneeling in front of it. She flipped the latches and threw open the case, intent on unpacking the contents but stopped as she stared at the photo that lay on top of her clothes. Biting back a sob, Delia pushed the case away before lying on the bed and allowing herself to cry freely, but quietly.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the door open, but Delia knew she hadn't slept. She had stared at the far wall while her mind continually looped through recent events, but nothing felt any easier.

"Deels?" Patsy stepped into the now dimly lit room carefully, frowning as she stubbed her toe on an unknown object. Glancing down, she noticed the open suitcase and her frown deepened. Delia was not as fastidiously immaculate as Patsy, but she kept her belongings neatly stowed. It was most unlike her to just leave her case out.

Her gaze focused on an item lying on top of Delia's clothes. It was a picture frame. The photo showed a beaming Delia, holding a piece of paper in one hand while her other arm was holding onto a tall, dark-haired man with bright eyes and deep dimples. The familial resemblance was striking and Patsy vaguely recalled meeting him what seemed like an age ago when Delia had lost her memory.

What alarmed Patsy however was that the picture frame was broken, the glass now showing several long cracks, and one edge of the frame had split. Patsy was certain that it had been damaged deliberately.

It took just a couple of seconds to assess the scene and Patsy propelled herself to Delia's bed, perching to one side of the woman. "Delia, what's happened?" She asked urgently.

Delia sniffed. "I've been slung out," she choked.

Patsy shook her head in confusion. "Sorry, what? What do you mean, slung out?" She could feel a ball of fear forming deep in her stomach.

Delia shrugged slightly. "Dad told me to leave and not come back." Her voice gave up on her as she finished the sentence.

"Your father?" Patsy was astonished. Through habit, she reached out and tried to brush Delia's fringe to one side but stopped the motion when she saw Delia flinch away from the gesture. "Delia, what happened?" It was all the titian-haired woman could do to keep her voice calm, but inside her mind was racing with speculation.

Delia coughed in an attempt to get her vocal chords working again. Reaching blindly behind her, she gripped Patsy's hand tightly as she ordered her thoughts.

* * *

The weekend started innocuously enough. Delia had spent time with the whole family, celebrating her nephew's birthday with silly games and cake. Her father had become rather taciturn as he watched his daughter play with her brothers' children. It was late in the afternoon when they finally left to go home. William retired to the living room with his pipe while Delia helped her mother restore the house to order.

Mrs Busby sighed as she placed another dish on the drainer. "You were wonderful with the children today, cariad," she told her daughter wistfully. "When are you going to settle down and have your own."

Delia winced and concentrated on drying the plate she held. "Mam, I'm as settled as I want to be right now," she responded cryptically.

Her mother pursed her lips. She was aware that the attachment Delia had with Miss Mount went further than friendship, but she still held out hope that Delia would come to her senses and settle down. The subject of children seemed to be an opportunity to test the bond the two women shared. "So you don't want any then?" She pried.

Delia turned away to stack the plate with the others on the sideboard in order to hide her facial expression. The truth was that she did want children. She loved them. But Patsy was everything to her. If she couldn't have any of her own, then she would just have to be a doting aunt with her family and friends' children. "There are plenty of children in the world, mam. It doesn't need me to add to the tally."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. How does Patsy feel? Does she want children?"

Delia frowned. "We've never discussed it," she replied curtly. This was excruciating.

"This is what I don't understand cariad." Gladys had turned round now and had lowered her voice into a harsh whisper. "How can you behave like this and tell me that you're happy and settled when you don't even have grown-up conversations about the future?"

Delia could feel her hackles rise defensively. "How can we discuss it?" She shot back. "It's not an option, so there's nothing to discuss."

"It is an option if you stop this foolishness and get married," her mother insisted.

"Mam. It's not foolishness. I know how I feel. I know what I'm doing. Patsy and I are perfectly happy." Delia hated that her voice sounded hollow and she could see that her mother had sensed a perceived weakness.

"It's sinful," her mother declared forcefully. "And you're too busy enjoying the happy times and avoiding the difficult things that strengthen a proper relationship," Mrs Busby judged.

"What, like living in permanent fear? Having to be secretive about absolutely everything?" Delia's voice was an angry hiss now. "Yes, it's terribly easy and happy," she scoffed.

"How do you know she won't up and leave because she wants children? What happens when a handsome man catches her eye and she realises she can lead a normal life?"

Delia flinched and swallowed down the hurt that threatened to overwhelm her. "It doesn't work that way. Patsy's not going to do that. And neither am I."

"Because you've discussed it and both know what you want?" Mrs Busby was ruthless now.

"Who's Patsy?" Delia's father asked suddenly. The women spun to see him leaning against the door jamb.

Delia shot her mother a wide-eyed glance before returning her gaze to her father. "She's a midwife at Nonnatus House," she told him neutrally.

William frowned. "Strange. I've never heard you mention her before. I've heard lots about Trixie and Barbara. And a Nurse Crane." His eyes hardened perceptibly. "I've not heard you mention Patsy though."

"Of course I have Dad," Delia refuted. "I've helped her out at Cubs."

The penny dropped. "She was the one at the hospital," he mused. He looked at Mrs Busby darkly before continuing. "You need to stop this nonsense, Delia. It's not healthy you spending all your time with those women. I want you to come home."

"I live in London now, Dad. That's where my life is," Delia tried to keep her voice level.

"Yes, but that was only ever a short-term thing. You were just going to do a bit of nursing until you found a man and settled down," her father continued blithely. He was very traditional in his views about what women should be doing - even for his own daughter. "I know that London is a much busier place than here, but how are you going to find someone and start a family when you're living in a convent?"

Delia tried to choose her words carefully. Her father had a bit of a Welsh dragon temper that could flare up unexpectedly. She also knew that he would never be able to understand or accept the love she shared with Patsy. "I'm concentrating on midwifery at the moment, Dad. I'm only part way through the course. It wouldn't make sense to not finish it."

William frowned. "When did you start training to be a midwife?" He looked at his wife who blanched visibly. "You knew about this and didn't tell me," he accused, his voice rising.

Delia stepped forward, unwilling to have her mother the brunt of her father's anger. "I decided to take it up. I needed a new challenge and I find it very rewarding," she told him firmly.

"Did _Patsy_ convince you to take it up?" Mr Busby was scathing in his question.

"I can make up my own mind about things, Dad. Yes, Patsy's a midwife, but so are Barbara, Trixie and Nurse Crane. None of them convinced me to do it. I decided by myself."

"And how long will this training take?" William asked pointedly.

Delia shifted nervously. "Probably about another year if I pass all my exams first time. Then I'll need to consolidate my training."

Her father crossed his arms across his chest. "And you'll be doing that in Poplar, will you?"

Delia nodded mutely.

"This is ridiculous, Delia. You need to settle down. You're 25. Time's passing. You don't want to be looking for a husband when you're nearly 30."

Delia couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I'm happy with what I'm doing. Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I saw you playing with your nieces and nephews, cariad. I saw you very happy then. I'll be happy for you when you've got children of your own."

Delia really didn't know what to say to that and her mind whirled. "I'm happy at work too. You haven't seen me there."

Mr Busby shook his head, unable to understand his daughter's stubbornness. "But you won't need to work once you're married. And definitely not when you've had children. I can't see why this is all so important to you."

Delia frowned. "You told me you were proud that I was training to become a nurse in London."

"I was. I am," William corrected. "But you've been away too long. You've allowed yourself to be led astray by those midwives."

Delia laughed incredulously. "Led astray? They're _nurses._ How have they led me astray?"

"Are any of them married?"

Delia groaned in frustration, but realised her mistake when she saw her father stiffen. He was deadly serious. "Barbara is going out with a vicar. Trixie and Patsy aren't married and..." Delia stopped herself from telling him about Nurse Crane's confirmed spinster status. She had a feeling that he would use that as further ammunition.

Mr Busby straightened and stepped closer. "So tell me, Delia, what sort of life is Patsy leading if she's not already leading a normal one?"

Delia's eyes widened and she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. She was terrible at lying and had instead perfected the art of avoiding the question, certainly with friends and colleagues at work. But this was different. This was her father asking a direct question. She could feel heat burning her cheeks as she contemplated an answer. "She is leading a normal life. It's just a normal life that involves her being a midwife," she eventually answered neutrally.

"Don't lie."

The words were brutal and Delia felt herself step back involuntarily. "I'm not," she protested.

"You're playing those stupid games again, aren't you?" Mr Busby was angry now.

"Calm down, William. Of course she's not," Mrs Busby stepped in. "That was just a bit of silliness growing up." She turned to Delia. "Wasn't it, cariad?"

Delia swallowed nervously but nodded, hating herself as she did.

"Good. Then you'll drop this nursing business and come home. You've been gone long enough."

"I'm not doing that Dad. I'm not giving up nursing."

"You can find a position at a local hospital. I want you home, Delia." Her father was insistent.

Delia shook her head. "I'm sorry Dad. I like it in London. I have friends there, and the work is challenging. I'm not giving that up."

Mr Busby glowered. "You will not disobey me while you're under this roof," he admonished.

"I'm not 'under this roof'. I came to visit. You can't just tell me what to do."

Delia's heart stopped as she saw her father raise his hand and she flinched back.

"William!" Gladys cried out reflexively, shocked that he would even contemplate such a thing.

Mr Busby lowered his hand, a look of shame augmenting the anger on his face. His eyes darkened as he stared at his daughter. "I've never struck you, Delia. Not even when you were a child." He grunted. "Huh, perhaps I should have. It would have stopped all this headstrong behaviour." He paused again and took in a deep breath. "Enough is enough, Delia. We've tolerated this for too long as it is."

There was a look of betrayal on Delia's face as she stared at her father. "I think I'd better leave," she muttered, her voice hoarse.

"If you leave now, then you leave for good." Mr Busby was adamant. "I will not stand by and allow you continue with this deviant behaviour."

Delia didn't think she could feel worse and then she heard the words spat at her by her father. She needed to put distance between them. "I'm going, Dad. And you can't stop me. I'll just go and pack my bag."

Delia tried to step past him in order to go upstairs but he barred the way. "Oh no. If you've made your choice, you can leave now."

Delia frowned. "You're throwing me out with nothing?" She asked incredulously.

"You seem to think you can do a lot better by yourself, in London. You don't need anything from here. Off you go." Mr Busby jerked his chin in the direction of the back door.

Delia looked at her mother in shock. "Mam?"

Gladys grabbed Delia's hand and pulled her toward her. "Wait in the alleyway, cariad. I'll get your bag to you."

Delia wondered if this was an attempt from her mother to offer some comfort. However the finality of the act of getting her suitcase provided no succour. The ball of fear that had been growing in Delia's chest sunk into her stomach. This was really happening. Her gaze hardened and she nodded curtly. "Alright."

As she opened the back door, Delia jumped as something crashed into the door. She forced herself not to look back and instead, looked down to the floor. She felt her throat constrict as she realised that the object that had been thrown at her was a framed photo. It had been taken for posterity. It showed her hugging her father in delight and holding the acceptance letter from the London.

Delia clenched her jaw and determinedly controlled her physical reaction. She slowly crouched down and picked up the photo gingerly, trying to avoid cutting herself on the glass shards or split frame. She then straightened and left without looking back.

It was almost half an hour before Delia heard footsteps in the alleyway. She stopped her pacing and turned to see her mother hurrying towards her, suitcase in hand. Up until this point, Delia had wondered if her mam might be able to talk some sense into her father, or even that she might come out and try and talk Delia round. That she was carrying the suitcase made it obvious that Delia was to leave, and would no longer be welcome in Wales.

"There's an evening bus to Tenby. There are plenty of guesthouses there where you can spend the night before going back to London tomorrow."

"Mam?" Delia's voice cracked, betraying her emotions.

"I'm sorry cariad, but your father's word is final. Give him a bit of time to come round." She paused a beat and narrowed her eyes. "Or come to your senses and find a gentleman suitor. I don't think he'd be so upset if you stayed in London, as long as your married and settled."

"I can't do that, mam," Delia told her plaintively.

Gladys shook her head sadly. "Then you've made your choice." With that she turned on her heel and left.

* * *

Delia turned as she finished relating what happened. Her face was wet with tears and she looked devastated as she stared at Patsy. "What am I going to do?"

Patsy swallowed and simply opened her arms, enveloping them round Delia as she flung herself into the embrace and they both held on tightly to each other as Delia sobbed.

 **To be continued...**


End file.
